Go for It
by Sapient
Summary: Boys will be boys, even when they're turtles. The brothers indulge themselves in a battle where only the slyest will survive. Chibi Turtle Tot fic of fluff.
1. Go for It

**Title:** Go for It 

**Summary:** Childhood pranks aren't limited to humans. Turtle-tots dabble in the fun. (One-Shot.)

**Disclaimers:** I own…nothing. If I did, you'd would be hearing all about it.

**Explanation:** Entirely random topic. I felt like writing something fun. Random title. Couldn't think of anything. xD That old story.

I like reviews, everyone. So…yeah. Click the button.

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"Mikey? Mike. Michelangelo? Mikeeyyyyyy!" 

Michelangelo could compete with the best of them where heavy-sleeping was concerned, but even he could not ignore the insistent whining of his name.

"Mmm," he snorted, barely acknowledging the voice.

"Mikey?"

A hand on the sleeping nine-year-old's shoulder shook him.

"Stobit," Michelangelo grunted nasally, cracking open his eyes.

"I can't sleep."

Mikey stared at the blurry face leaning over him for a moment, too exhausted to focus properly. He closed his eyes again, only to be shaken for a second time. "Stop it," he said more clearly this time. With an annoyed groan, he stared upwards. His eldest brother hovered over his bed. "Leo? Whadda' want…?"

The children's beds were set up in a bunked fashion. Michelangelo and Leonardo shared the one on the far side of the lair, Raphael and Donatello had their own in another room, while their sensei's sanctuary was situated between them. It made sense that Mike would be the one Leonardo woke up. Sensible, but not convenient.

"I can't sleep," Leo repeated. "Nightmare," he explained, a hint of shame in his voice.

Mikey propped himself up on his elbow, scrutinizing his brother. The bravest one of the four, standing over his bed, complaining of nightmares. "You had hot wings for dinner," he said slowly.

Leo blinked. "Yeah. And you had cold pizza. Donny and Raph had chicken fingers. So what?"

"They say you're not suppose to eat spicy food before bed," Mikey explained. The mattress squealed with age as Leo took a seat by his brother's feet.

"Who's they?"

"They. Ya' know, dude, them," he replied, exasperated, as though everyone should have been familiar with the They's, Them's, and Those's.

"Oh, right, them," Leo agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Let's do something!" Mikey exclaimed suddenly, throwing off his covers. The sheets flew upwards, and over Leo.

"Likewha?" Leo slurred as he pulled the sheet off of his head.

"Get a glass of warm water," he instructed, jumping out of bed.

"Get your own!" Leo snorted, aghast his younger brother would demand such things. There was a pecking order between siblings.

"Trust me," the turtle replied, jogging quietly from their bedroom.

Leo rolled his shoulders, complaining about his brother under his breath. His steps were soft as he pad into the kitchen, keeping an eye out for Michelangelo, but not seeing where he had gotten to. Water trickled hollowly into the empty glass he'd snatched from the cabinet, filling it quickly. He smacked his lips together, and lifted the cup to drink from it.

"Don't drink it, stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid, stupid!" Leonardo retorted, spinning on his heels to face Mikey. His little brother sported a dangerously large grin. In his hands were two familiar bandanas, one red, one purple. Leo wasn't surprised he had been able to get the masks, none of the boys wore them to sleep. They were uncomfortable, and caused the top of their heads to itch if they wore them for too long. They planned on asking Master Splinter for smaller bandanas, maybe ones that only went over their eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Playin' dress-up, dude," he answered, sticking out his tongue. "Now be quite. You'll wake Sensei up." He walked quickly towards the fridge, roughly throwing open the freezer door.

"Mikey, you ate the last of the fudge pops yesterday."

"Duh," he rolled his eyes at his brother's innocence. Didn't he understand the prank? It was a classic! The terrapin tossed the head-bands into the freezer and closed the door with a bang. "Now, give me the glass. Hurry up!"

Mikey took the glass, balancing it carefully as to avoid spilling any of its contents, and raced towards the bedroom of their brothers. Leo jogged after him curiously.

"Shhhh," the younger of the pair hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. Leonardo nodded, and watched as Mikey tiptoed towards the bunk bed.

Raphael had the bottom of the two beds, and made good use of his mattress. He was sprawled out on his stomach, drool dripping slowly from his open mouth and onto his pillow. One arm dangled off the bed, his fingers coming dangerously close to scraping against the ground. Mikey was sure not to be heard, afraid to risk unleashing the furry that was Raphael. The glass was placed on the ground with a soft clink as Michelangelo lifted up his brother's hand.

The air in the room became tense as Raph's eyes tightened, relaxed, and tightened again. Mikey held his breath, still gripping the hand of his sleeping brother, and dared to exhale only once Raph had settled down. Slowly, carefully, he lowered the turtle's finger into the glass of water.

Waving his arms frantically over his head, Mike stood, turned, and raced towards Leonardo. "Run, run!" he whispered, pushing his brother out in front of him.

They raced back to their room, drawing on the extent of their ninja training not to make a sound as they ran down the hall, into their bedroom, and beneath their covers. The pair was quiet for a few long moments, waiting to see if their father or brothers would come to confront them.

A soft voice came from the bottom bunk. "That. Was. So. COOL!"

A fit of giggles erupted from the two of them, leaving them breathless.

"M-m-major stitch, man!" Mikey laughed, clutching his sides. Leo dangled his torso over the edge of the bed. "I get the clothes in the freezer thing," -he had to pause to wait from Mikey's second wave of giggles to subside- "but what was with the warm water?"

"Dude, do you, like, live under a rock or something?" he gasped. "That's, like, the greatest prank ever! Y-y-you p-put their hand in water, and they p-p-p-p-pee!"

Their laughter attack returned with a new furry. Leo rolled so violently over his bed, he became entangled in his sheets, which merely caused them to laugh at a new subject.

It took a long while for their laughter to soften, and disappear. They were too awake to sleep, and chatted the hours away.

"Remember the last time we made Raph pee himself?" Michelangelo asked casually.

Leo nodded, though they were in their own beds, and could not see each other. "Yeah…" he murmured as he stared upwards at his ceiling.

They were six at the time. Donny, Mikey, and he had pinned Raph down after he refused to share the remote control. They proceeded to tickle the young turtle until he wet himself.

"He was so mad," Mikey concluded. He sounded immensely entertained.

"Oh yeah," Leo sniggered. "Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow night, we're doing this to Don."

Their latest fit of muffled giggles greeted the sunrise.


	2. This Means War

**Disclaimers: **I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...obviously. If I did, this would be a cartoon, a comic, or a movie, and not a FanFiction. Note the 'Fan' in that, won't you? Nor do I own the Discovery Channel. But I do watch it a lot. Long live the nerds.

**Explanation:** Writing the first chapter was too much fun to keep it a one-shot. I decided I'd add chapters as I thought of them. If it becomes a running story, so be it, but now it's just a series of pranks. If you know of any good pranks, just tell them to me, and I might make it into a chapter. Hope that makes you feel special.

This chapter is a little long. I got to writing and couldn't stop. x)

And finally, happy birthday to me. xD I am so selfish, no?

Enjoy.

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In the dojo the following morning, Raphael was unusually hostile when sparring with his brothers.

"Say it!" he roared into Donatello's ear. The purple-clad turtle was pinned beneath his sibling, his arm stretched dangerously far over his back.

"I…won't…say…it!" Donny grunted, struggling against the mat on the floor. The situation was hopeless, of course, but it would be an intense strike to the boy's ego to give up. Raphael growled and pulled his little brother's arm further over his back. Tears of pain squeezed out of the corners of young Don's eyes, until he could not handle the pain, and surrendered with a soft, "Uncle."

"I can't hear you!" Raph sang, refusing to release the turtle's arm.

"Raphael!" a commanding voice chastised. "Release your brother at once." Their sensei strode across the sparring mat, and wound his fingers around the top of his son's shell. Young Raph was hauled to his feet by his angered father, and swatted aside. "Come, Donatello," the rat instructed, holding out his hand.

"Thank you, Father," Donny murmured, taking hold of Splinter's hand and pulling himself to his feet.

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled things to himself. The other three were sure to stay out of his way, huddling in a group away from him. Mikey and Leo had filled Don into their tricks that morning while Raphael had been in the showers. The sewer's strong water pressure was sure to drown out their voices as their whispered over their toothbrushes.

"Today, my sons, we shall practice in pairs, with your weapons," Sensei declared. He paused, looking his sons over slowly. "Raphael, you are to train with your wooden sais today. I see your meditation has not been helping you control your frustration," he said slowly.

The others sighed thankfully as they walked towards the weapons cabinet. They doubted an angry Raphael would have inhibitions as to where he stuck those sais of his. Eight eager hands snatched up their weapons, clutching them to their chests and against their hips as they returned to the sparring mats, waiting to see which partners they would be assigned; the nervous trio prayed silently they would not duel with Raph.

Their father eyed them carefully. It was obvious he knew something was up, but was unfamiliar to the tricks of little boys. He had not found it odd at all to have changed young Raphael's bed sheets that morning.

"Michelangelo," Splinter began, Mikey's heart began to beat in his chest, "will work with Raphael today." He nodded to the remaining pair, needing no words to assign them their partners. It was not a hard deduction, considering there was only one other prospective opponent for either turtle.

"Yes, Father!" Leo replied hastily. He and Donatello headed towards the far end of the mat.

As Donny passed Michelangelo, he whispered beneath his breath, "Dead turtle walkin'."

"Mmm," Mike mumbled. He swirled his nunchakus as he walked towards his own end of the mat.

Their father waiting for them to take their positions, weapons ready, standing opposite their partners. "You may begin."

Leonardo and Donatello did not seem to notice the 'starting whistle.' Their attention was focused on their brothers, wishing to see the beginning of the third World War.

Raph leapt at Mikey, carelessly prodding at him with his sais. The orange-clad turtle was able to dodge the shots, and fire a few of his own. The ends of his nunchakus bit at Raphael, slapping against his leg, his shoulder, and the backs of his knees. Mike was getting cocky with each new strike.

"Whatsa' matter, Raphy? You gotta' stay focused, man, you're getting' sloppy in your old age," he sang merrily, jumping away from another round of jabbing motions made by his brother.

Raphael growled, eyes narrow, slashing blindly. Michelangelo could avoid him easily, but his ego was getting the best of him. He was taking too much pleasure in aggravating his brother. The spinning of his nunchakus began to slow, until they were hanging limp between his fingers.

"C'mon, Raphy, Raphy," he laughed. "You can't hit me, dude! I'm like lightning! Float like a butterfly, sting like a-"

He was cut short when Raphael aimlessly threw one of his sais towards Mikey's head. The broadside of the weapon struck him across the forehead, distracting him long enough to enable the second turtle to throw himself against him. The pair fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and shells, Michelangelo's shoulder cushioning their decent to the ground with a sharp, 'CRACK!'

"Owwww!" Mikey howled, crumpled beneath his brother. "Lemme' go, lemme' go!" he pleaded.

Raphael shoved her forearm against his brother's throat, pinning him down. "How 'bout that! Can I hit ya' now, light'nin' boy? You ain't no butta'fly now, are ya'?"

Their father stepped in to stop the fight. "Enough!" he roared, prying Raphael off of his brother. The rat was surprisingly stronger than his body would allude to. If one were forced to age him, he would have been in his early to mid forties, perhaps. None of the boys knew for sure, he refused to tell them. They knew of their own birthdays, however, as they were always celebrated (Though the day occasionally wandered. At least once a year, they were given a treat.). "None of you have been meditating! Your distractions are getting the best of you!"

The turtles rarely saw their sensei angry, and it was a frightening thing when he was.

"Enough training for today," he groaned, pressing his long fingers to his temples. "We will resume our lessons later in the day, we will be practicing the art of meditation, the clearing of one's mind."

Michelangelo stood up slowly, holding his nunchakus in one hand, and his injured shoulder in the other. "Jeeze, Raph, was that really necessary?"

"I was only warmin' up," he snarled.

"Michelangelo," Splinter called, he was standing before the dojo's exit. "Come with me."

"I didn't do anything!" he whined quietly.

Leonardo chuckled before he could stop himself.

"It's not funny!" Mikey barked.

"Yes it is," Leo disagreed. "Here, give me those…" He took Mike's nunchakus. "I'll put 'em away, go see with Sensei wants."

Mikey nodded and jogged away to confront his father, his mind running laps trying to figure out how Splinter had found out about the prank. Leo wouldn't have tattled. They were beyond that age. And if he had, so help him…

"Let me see your shoulder," the rat instructed once his son had reached him. The child winced as his father pressed his hands against his skin. "You will be fine by tomorrow. Come, I will give you something for it."

Splinter laid his hand on the back of Mikey's shell, leading him away. The three remaining brothers had thrown their weapons in the designated cabinet, and left to take advantage of a rare break from training.

The rat's long toenails clicked against the cement the lined the kitchen floors as he lead Mikey away from the dojo. Removing his hand from the boy's back, Splinter paused before the refrigerator; it was a gift from a junkyard, one the naturally tech-smart Donatello had managed to get running again.

"Michelangelo, take this." Their father rustled through the freezer, pushing away freezer-burned mold pockets that had, at one point, probably been food. At last he withdrew an icy bag of frozen corn, and handed it to his son.

Mikey stared at the bag in his hands. "High-tech," he mumbled. "Can't we splurge on an icepack, Sensei?"

"Hush," Splinter grunted, pressing his bony hand to the boy's shell, pushing him foreword. "Now, cease instigating your brother. You have brought this upon yourself."

Mikey grumbled beneath his breath as he shuffled from the kitchen. Sensei did not know about their tricks, this he could be sure of. If he had, he would have confronted the four of them and demanded an explanation. Now he was sitting back, waiting for information to surface.

The young turtle made his way towards the couch. He just wanted to sit back and relax after his defeat. Donny and Leonardo were waiting for him there, peering over the back of the sofa eagerly.

"Did you get in trouble?" Donatello demanded.

"Why do you have corn?" Leo followed.

"No, and Sensei gave it to me," Mike replied bluntly, walking around the couch to sit with them.

"Gave you corn?" Donny retorted.

"For his shoulder, brainiac," Leo laughed.

Donny smacked his forehead, his expression clearly exclaiming, 'Oh, duh!'

Footsteps behind them caused them all to spin where the sat. Raphael had come to join them.

"How's yer' shoulder, Mike?" he snorted. Michelangelo thrust out his tongue at him.

Raph swung himself over the back of the couch, taking a seat on the end of the chain of small turtles. Donatello snatched the remote control off of the coffee table before any of the others could make a grab for it.

Mikey groaned, "Please, Don, no Discovery shows! I can only hear so much about nuclear psychologists before my brain turns to mush."

"If your brain liquefies anymore, it'll be running out of your ears," Donny shrugged. "And it's nuclear physicists, not psychologists." He pointed the remote at the TV, clicking it on. They didn't get very good reception in the lair; most of the channels were black and white, and played old movies. He left on a Sci-Fi movie having something to do with lobster-like aliens invading New York City.

Ten minutes had passed in silence. Splinter had come to join them, settling down into his armchair with a cup of tea. He pretended not to be interested in the movie, but the boys caught him watching it from the corners of his eyes.

During a slower section of the motion picture, Raph grunted, "This stinks."

"And the costumes are terrible," Donatello agreed. "You can see the zipper whenever the lobster guy turns around."

"No, not the lobsta'," Raphael rolled his eyes. "I mean, somethin' really stinks."

"Ugh, I think it's Mikey!" Leo groaned, turning his face away from his little brother, who he had sat next to.

Donatello couldn't smell anything, but he did not say it aloud with fear of igniting a sibling war. Two against one was more of a massacre, but one Mikey could recover from quickly. Backing Mike up would even the odds and spark something more. Don was too much of a pacifist for anything that extreme.

"Ew! It is!" Raph laughed.

"That's enough," Splinter declared. He'd found himself saying a lot of that lately. Four young boys in the house would have that affect on a person. And they hadn't even hit their teens yet…

"Fine!" Mikey barked. "I'll get a shower, losers!"

Ignoring Sensei's scolding, Michelangelo leapt off the couch and stormed away.

His angry footsteps echoed through the lair. When he was finally out of earshot, Donatello remarked, "That was mean."

"Very much so, Donatello. May you hold onto that way of thinking. Forbid your brothers to corrupt your young mind," Splinter sighed. Taking his empty mug, the rat shuffled towards the kitchen for another cup of tea.

"Okay…" he blinked, before turning to his siblings. "What was that all about? He didn't smell."

"Sure he did," Leo stated, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go…train," he declared.

"Don, mind if I use your computer?" Raph questioned casually as Leonardo began to walk away.

"Um… No, no, go ahead," Donatello replied slowly.

"Thanks, bro," the turtle turned, and left, leaving Donny alone with the lobster-man alien movie.

Don tossed the remote control onto Sensei's chair, knowing the humanoid rat would be returning with a full glass of tea once the commercials ended. Getting up from the couch, he spun on his heels and debated what to do. He could train with Leo, but no child in their right mind would do work when they didn't have to. Only Leo, he always wanted to make Sensei proud. He didn't dare go bother Raphael on the computer. He hated to be interrupted while he was doing something. That left waiting for Mikey to get out of the shower. Perhaps they could play a board game or something, maybe some cards. Don began to walk towards his bedroom to grab a deck of playing cards. Perhaps he could convince his younger brother to play a game of War with him.

As he walked, Donatello heard faint howling. He stopped, confused. No one would let a dog into their lair, and it would have been next to impossible for one to find its own way in. He listened closely, wondering if it were an injured cat, before he realized the howling was actually a string of words.

"Idon'tbelievethis!" it roared.

Don began to jog to find the source of the sound. It grew louder as he neared the bathroom. He knew then what 'injured cat' was making the noise.

"Mikey!" he called. Donatello paused at the archway leading into the bathroom. The entire lair was door-less, though Splinter had strung up crude curtains in the bathroom for privacy reasons. Because of these, Don could see nothing past the circular ring of sinks. He really had no need to, really, considering the fact a thick wall of foam was seeping from beneath the shower curtain. A crisp, soapy, smell wafted from the foamy mess.

The curtain was wretched back, its rings screeching loudly as they ran across the bar that supported the entire contraption. A dripping, sudsy, Michelangelo leapt from the shower, ranting madly about something to do with revenge. Technically, he was naked, but they were turtles, not humans, and weren't concerned with such things.

"Mikey!" his brother exclaimed. "What-"

"Where's Raphael!" It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"I don't know," Donny sputtered. "On my computer, I think?"

"This is the last straw!" he growled. Six thick fingers wrapped around a soaking orange bandana, which had cemented against his skin with the combined force of soap and water. A loud squelch, the sound of a suction breaking, rang out as Mikey tore the fabric off of his head. Don didn't dare ask why he had worn his headband into the shower…

"Man," Donatello whistled. "What happened in there?"

Mikey wrung the bandana between his hands, creating a puddle of murky water at his feet. "I was turning on the water, to warm it up, ya' know? It wasn't running out of the spout, so I looked to see if somethin' was blocking it, and BOOM! Bubbles everywhere!" He rubbed his fists against his eyes. "Dude, I think I got it in my eye!" he whined.

"Well, stop rubbing it!" Don cried.

"Whoa, bro, what have you been doin'?" A cocky voice came from behind them. They turned; Raphael was walking towards them, and Leonardo was not far behind, at the end of the hall.

"You did this!" The youngest of the four cried out, throwing his finger towards Raphael.

"I dunno' what yer' talkin' about," Raphael sung innocently. "Ya' needa' towel or somethin', Mike?"

"That's it, Raphael!" Mikey threw his soaking headband on the ground. "I accept your challenge. This means war!" He stormed away, a trail of suds and bubbles following him down the hall, until he slipped out of view into his bedroom.

Donny sighed. "You packed soap into the shower head, didn't you?"

"And shampoo. Figured I couldn't be too careful." Raphael began to laugh. He smacked Leo on the shoulder as he turned around. Don assumed they were both in on this, and had neglected to enlist him. It was probably for the best, really, since he might have tried to talk them out of it. The red and blue banded turtles laughed happily as the walked down the hall, in the opposite direction of Michelangelo.

Donatello rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom. Taking up a mop that was kept propped against the bathroom wall, he got to work cleaning up the shower and surrounding area before Sensei noticed. Oh, they owed him big time!


	3. Interesting Feeling

**Disclaimers:** I own nothing. Seriously, though? Nothing. Not even the plot, really, but I'd get really angry and sick my evil, ninja, cockatiel on you if you made a story like mine. Ninjitsu action! Also, please don't try this trick unless you know your victim. Some people are allergic to the materials listed in this chapter. Just be careful you don't hurt anybody. April Fools is a bad day to be hospitalized. 

**Ew's:** Here's a fun category. xD I overlooked a few rather disgusting mistakes in the last chapter. And I can't even blame them on MS Word (It messes up the spacing occasionally. Happened in the first chapter, you probably noticed…). A few grammar mistakes, like including the word 'really' about three times in one sentence, and 'cards' or 'games' a dozen times in a small paragraph. Shh. You didn't see them!

Um… Let's see. I found this prank online (Though all of yours were very good suggestions. I might write 'em yet.), not sure if it works or not.

For the sake of simplifying life, I need to know a set way to spell poor Donatello's nickname. I've seen it spelled "Donny," "Donnie," and…maybe "Danny," for the nonconformists. I'm not in the wrong with the "-ny," am I? Maybe I should be the bridge between these two worlds and spell it, "Donniy." I'm good like that.

Random trivia fact for you! I was watching TMNT; The Movie, and it turns out that April's antique store is on the street I used to live on. That got me in the mood for writing. x)

As always, enjoy. And review, or doom to you.

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"Back-stabbing, double-crossing, two-timing-" 

"Mikey, if you don't shut up, someone's gonna' hear us."

Donatello waved a hand at his little brother. He was getting sick of his ranting. So Leo had helped Raphael trick him… Don had lost sympathy after the first hour or so. The next six were just an annoyance.

"Who's gonna' hear us?" Mike snorted. The pair were walking through the tunnels beneath the city. It was late, at least midnight, if not later. It was obvious the pair had snuck out on their own. Master Splinter wouldn't dare let them wander the sewers alone, let alone at night.

"Does that really matter?" Don shifted something between his hands, a small plastic bag. "C'mon, we've got to get back to the lair before someone notices we left." The turtle tightened his fist around the bag and began to jog, trusting his brother to follow his lead.

"Who's gonna' notice?" Michelangelo was in the mood to argue. His arms pumped as he caught up with his brother. "It's, like, two in the morning. Everyone's asleep."

"Whatever. I'll race you!" Donatello knew just how to side-track the younger turtle. He didn't wait for a response, knowing it already. Kicking up a bit of water into the face of his just-too-slow brother, Donny raced down the maze of winding tunnels, his fist clenched tightly around the zipped plastic bag.

"Oh, hell no, dude!" Mikey exclaimed. For a nine-year-old, that was powerful language. He dove foreword, attempting to tackle Donatello. The effort was useless, he was too far behind the turtle to touch him.

"Ha!" Donny laughed, turning his head to watch as his brother lost his balance and fell into the muck. "You can't- Ooof!" He stumbled, his legs tangling together, throwing him to the ground. The water in the tunnel was barely deep enough to be bothersome while walking, but it was enough to cover Donatello's underside in a thin coat of slime. He did not want to know just what it was made of.

"You've always been the graceful one, Don!" Mikey laughed, slapping him on the shell. The film of dirt was just as noticeable on his body, but he did not seem to give it any thought, unlike his brother, who leapt to his feet and viciously began to wipe it away.

"It won't be funny if these things get wet," he retorted, tossing the plastic bag to Michelangelo. "They won't work if they do."

"Precisely why we brought the bag, dear brother," Mike purred. He lifted the bag into the air. Stray beams from the moon trickled through a nearby drain cover, illuminating the clear bag. "Where'd you hear about this, anyway?" He asked, poking its contents through the plastic.

"I have my sources, dear brother," Don mocked, free of filth now. He snatched the bag. "Come on. We have to get back."

77777777777777777777

They wasted no time in returning to their lair. It was a blessing that no one had woken up during their absence. Donatello rolled out the chair that sat in front of his desk. Clicking on the desktop lamp, his working space was illuminated with a sharp beam of light. He held the plastic bag up dramatically, before dumping its contents onto the table.

Seeds floated downwards, spinning like an old rotary phone. They were the product of a maple tree, seed pods with leafy attachments spread out like wings. The Whirligigs, as they were fondly nicknamed, were dead, brown, and brittle. It was a miracle they had even found any. Unless you wanted to take a walk to Central Park, trees were few and far between.

Carefully, Donatello tore the leafy cover from around the actual seed. It was brown in color, and looked almost silver in the light. He repeated this action until a collection of the seeds were exposed, taking two in his hands.

He fished a pair of glasses with magnified lenses from one of the desk draws. Slipping them on, he peered down at the seeds in his hand as though it were a delicate part of an operation. As he chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, he turned the seeds over in his hands.

"Hey, Doctor Frankenstein, do you think we could hurry this up a bit?" Mikey said impatiently. He gawked over his brother's shoulder, watching him slowly shave slivers off of the seed pod with a razor blade he'd taken out of a drawer.

"If you'd get out of my light, sure I could." He ran the blade along the seed. "Ow!" he gasped. The steel had slipped, and cut a shallow slice in his fingertip. "This isn't working," Donny mumbled, shoving his finger into his mouth.

"Try rubbin' them together!" Mikey declared. "C'mon, try it!" he insisted as he brother shot him an annoyed glare.

Donatello rolled his eyes and pressed two pods together, working them against one another to Mike's satisfaction. He blinked as silver slivers fell from around the seeds, collecting on the desk. "I can't believe that works."

"Ha! Who's the evil genius now?" Mike beamed, punching his fists in the air.

"Alright, alright. You're the evil genius. Now help me, we need a lot of this stuff for them to even notice it," he said, sliding a handful of Whirligigs towards his brother. "You only want to casing on the seeds, okay? So be careful."

"Just this silver stuff?" Mikey echoed. His brother nodded. "Ha. Totally radical, dude!"

Don dropped his hands, staring at Michelangelo over his glasses. "What?"

"Nothing," he murmured.

"I thought so."

77777777777777777777

Michelangelo had the bag held tenderly in his mouth. Between his hands was the thin flannel bed sheet he'd pulled off of a sleeping Leonardo. It was times like these when he cursed Rock, Paper, Scissors. He'd wanted to perform their act of sabotage on Raphael… But Rock beats Scissors every time. He had gotten stuck with the light sleeper.

Leo shifted, shivering slightly as the cold air rushed onto him, but continued to sleep. Mikey breathed out softly, folding down the sheet and taking the bag into his hands. He slowly opened it, wincing as the seal snapped apart. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, but the sleeping turtle did not stir.

Michelangelo tilted the bag, watching as silver flecks fell like snow onto the sheet, then onto the mattress, and finally onto young Leonardo. He tugged up the blanket, dropping it over his brother. Eager to leave before the turtle awoke, Mikey spun around, and tiptoed silently out of the bedroom.

Donatello was in the hall, waiting for him. In his hands was a crumpled bag, not unlike Mikey's. "Mission accomplished?"

"Did you doubt me?" Mike questioned with a smile. His heart was beating frantically, despite his cool attitude. Don rolled his eyes theatrically. He continued. "You?"

"Of course," Donatello smirked. "It shouldn't be enough to wake them up, but they'll notice it in the morning."

"Who knew you could make itching powder at home, huh? And it's all natural!" he boasted.

"I knew," Don replied smartly as he waved his brother down the hall. "C'mon, we'll sleep in the living room tonight so we're not there when they wake up. We'll tell Sensei we fell asleep watching monster movies."

"Awesomely radical carnage, dude!" Michelangelo sung as they reached the safety of the main room. It was doubtful the nine-year-old knew what he was saying, but it sounded cool, and that was all that mattered..

"Mikey!" Donatello whined, diving onto the couch. He threw a pillow over his head, burying his face into the sofa cushion. "Spare me!"

* * *

I thought that I'd wait until the end to tell you what in the world they were doing. Made you wonder, though, didn't I:P 


End file.
